


Organized Chaos

by herbailiwick



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Christmas, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Mistletoe, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://johncroftianlullaby.tumblr.com/post/36791962147/winter-drawing-writing-challenge">Winter Writing/Drawing Challenge</a> Day 12 - Mistletoe (or Plain Smoochies)</p><p>amayakumiko prompted: "Slap some Cabin Pressure Martin/Carolyn on me, and make it all romantic-like. Please. :D"</p><p>This is a bit of a follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/582466">Christmas Eve Eve</a> and includes Douglas/Arthur.</p><p>Carolyn and Martin aren't fond of parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Organized Chaos

"Your son has some...interesting friends," Martin supplies, watching from his little corner of the room as one man attempts (and, so far, succeeds) to juggle three ceramic angels.

He barely knows these people," she says with a sniff. "Here, take some of this to the bin," she orders, handing Martin some rubbish. "Make yourself useful."

Martin narrows his eyes, but does as told, making a wide berth around the juggling man in the rather small room. Too small for juggling or for so many people, anyway. There are more people in the room than could fit on GERTI, and Martin hates crowds.

The cheering from the room fades a bit, then rises up again, and when Martin steps back in, he sees that a woman is cracking walnuts with her hands. She doesn't look particularly strong, at least no stronger than the average woman of her age. "It's simple!" she says, and she looks over at Martin, pointing at him. "I'll bet even he can do it."

"Thank you, but that will do," Carolyn says, roping her arm around Martin's shoulders before he can stutter out a reply. She leads Martin back toward his corner of the room, saying, "This corner is looking empty without you in it."

Douglas laughs from his chair and says, "Yes, Martin, let's not upset the feng shui of the room." He hands Martin the drink Martin left behind and says, "Quite a full house."

"Who _are_ these people?" Carolyn asks with narrowed eyes.

"A decent amount of them are from Horse Club, and a few are from Talents Club, and Arthur's joined an impromptu football team, remember?"

"Ah. I remember," Carolyn says with a dark expression.

"You just don't recognize any of them when they're not running about, chasing a ball," Douglas says. He keeps a watchful eye on Arthur. Douglas points at the woman cracking walnuts, who has begun to try and teach the skill to Arthur. "She's on the team, actually. She's rather good."

"If I wanted strangers in my house, I'd kidnap some," Carolyn says with a frown.

"So you're not much of a hostess, then?" Martin teases. Carolyn gives him a deadly look.

"Martin, you are not funny," she says. Then, her face softens slightly as she watches Arthur cheer at his cracked walnut, hand it to the juggling man, and run to fix a few more drinks. 

Douglas rises. "I'm going to make sure all goes well," he says, handing his glass of virgin eggnog to Carolyn. "Watch that, will you?"

Carolyn makes a face at it. "Seriously?" But Douglas is already off to keep an eye on Arthur. "Fine," she mutters, then handing the glass to Martin.

"Hey!"

Carolyn smooths down her silky-looking violet blouse and shrugs. "Look, Martin, holding Douglas's drink is about the most fun you're going to have all night." She narrows her eyes as she looks round again. "I swear, if one more girl tries to talk to me about horses," she warns. "And don't think I don't know what they all want from Arthur. But he's got Douglas now." She takes Martin's drink from him and tosses what's left in it back.

"You're not the boss of me right now, Carolyn," Martin points out. "You're just being very, very rude."

She sighs. "Well, alright, then. Here's a compliment, since 'tis the season and all that."

Martin stares at her strangely, wondering how backhanded it will be.

"I'd rather talk to you about planes than talk to any of this lot about 'talents' or 'footie' or great big beasts that aren't yet glue."

Martin raises an eyebrow. "Thank you, I suppose."

"Happy Christmas, Martin." Carolyn goes back to watching from the corner, seemingly finished paying much attention to Martin, but Martin doesn't realize that.

"For what it's worth, I'd rather talk to you than to many of these people. Then again, I already know you, so I know how scary you can be, or at least I think I do, and the level of threat these people might pose is still a mystery."

"Martin, I have untold depths of which you've never dreamed of." She glances over at him and gives him a wicked smile, and he tilts his head in question. Then, she's looking away again.

"Carolyn," he says hesitantly. "What does that mean?"

"Better for me to know and for you to never find out."

"Okay. You seem to be...hinting, though. Like you want me to ask?" Martin swallows. Women are hard to understand in the best of circumstances, and this is an awkward party, and this is his boss, except not at the moment because they're only at Arthur and Douglas's Christmas Eve party.

"You'd run screaming, I think," Carolyn says with a soft smile as she avoids looking at Martin. It's possible that she leans toward him just slightly, almost imperceptibly, all the same. Sometimes Martin is nothing if not perceptive.

"What," Martin says in suspicion, "you haven't," having started out loudly, he lowers his voice to an urgent whisper, swallowing once, "killed someone?"

Carolyn slowly turns to look at him, assessing his sincerity. "Martin, you're a silly thing," she says. She takes the glasses from him, setting them down on the nearest clear space. "Here. Come." She offers her hand, and he hesitates much too long. She grabs his hand herself. "Very silly," she says with a sigh.

Martin swallows as she leads him across the room, and she's calling, "Pardon me!" in a firm voice that causes others to scramble out of their way at once. It's kind of nice to be in her company. He feels almost like he's commander material by association. He shakes the thought from his mind as Carolyn gently presses him back against the wall by the shoulders. 

Carolyn gazes into his eyes, her cheeks flushed slightly, her eyes bright. "Captain Crieff," she says, "I suggest you take a look above our heads."

He glances up, then holds his gaze on the sprig of green with the little white berries and the red bow. "Oh!" he says. Then, he stares at Carolyn, resting back against the wall in surprise. " _Oh!_ What?! Um." He gulps. "Hm?"

Carolyn laughs softly, the sound so gentle he's reminded of the way she talks to Arthur sometimes, full of long-suffering understanding and care. "Martin, if I let go of you, would you run screaming?"

"I-I-I don't kn-know," he says honestly, swallowing hard. "I mean, w-were serious here?" He glances over her shoulder at a few of the watching party-goers. One of them, probably one of the men from the football team, gives him a thumbs up. He bites his lip, then continues softly. "I mean, i-it's tradition. So, don't hold this against me later?" he squeaks out.

"Martin," Carolyn says in amusement, somehow alight with a softer energy than usual. "I'm the one pinning you to the wall." And it's a very good point. 

And now Martin is blushing, is going red, bowing his head slightly, clearing his throat. He attempts to say something in response, but she gazes at him with implication, so he chuckles nervously instead. 

"I'm going to hazard a guess that you're not much of a kisser," she says bluntly.

Martin winces, wanting to pull away, but he settles for dropping his gaze. He wants to run screaming. He does. And he also sort of wants to cry. But he'll settle for doing neither, will settle for obeying the pressure at his shoulders.

"But, let's face it: You're not much of a pilot." He glances up, a flash of pure indignation in his suddenly stern gaze. "And, considering I don't plan on firing you anytime soon, take that as you will," she says with a pointed smirk.

Despite himself, despite the fact she could be joking and is well old enough to be his mum, despite the cheering football players and the man who's just started to juggle emptied glass tumblers, Martin slowly starts to smile a nervous, on-edge, ephemeral smile. 

Suddenly, there's breath and then there's the bump of their noses when he tries to help, and then their lips meet properly when he stops trying. Her lips glide over his. He can taste her lipstick: oddly waxy, somehow metallic or chemical or...does it even matter? And, actually, there's a surprising amount of tongue going on, and she's been drinking a bit, but not as much as she usually opts for at Christmas.

It's _Carolyn_. But...it's Carolyn. She may be his no-nonsense, penny-pinching boss, but she's also soft when his hand finds her waist. She's determined and admirably commanding, and nice when she thinks someone's earned it, and...a pretty brilliant, enthusiastic kisser.

She catches his bottom lip with her teeth, and her hands still ground his shoulders, giving them a little squeeze, and his other hand finds itself awkwardly cupping her cheek, and he tries to give it his best shot, and he knows, somehow, by instinct, that she appreciates it.

She nuzzles his cheek as she finally pulls away, hands still on his shoulders as she looks at him to the backdrop of rowdy cheering. "I guess Arthur can throw a pretty decent party after all," she says, and then she's gone, and the room is suddenly much cooler, and he's still there, still against the wall just near the mistletoe.

Miss Walnuts & Football comes over to see if she can be next in line—something about Martin apparently floats her boat—but he raises his hands and says. "Thank you, but...no thank you." 

She smiles at him and gives a little nod of understanding. "You have a bit of lipstick smudged."

"Oh! I do?!" He ducks his head, trying to wipe at his lips.

A hand with well-earned wrinkling at the back grasps his arm. It's Carolyn. She tugs him away from the mistletoe, patting him on the back. "MJN actually has no policy about inter-office dating. I never supposed it would be an issue."

"Neither did I," Martin says a bit breathlessly.

"I'm not forcing you into anything," she reminds Martin. "I don't date the almost-certain."

"Certain's not really...my...."

"Area of strength? No, I suppose not," she says thoughtfully.

"Is it true?!" Arthur says, and they both turn to look at him with nervous expressions.

"Look at you guys! Well, this is great, then! It's...a Christmas miracle!"

Douglas comes up behind Arthur. "That was quite the kiss. Probably been a fair while, hasn't it, Carolyn?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Miraculous kissing. That's one thing you've got from your mother, Arthur," Douglas says smugly, and Arthur lets out a surprised burst of laughter.

"I'm gonna check on the oven in a bit," Arthur says brightly, "but...I know it's probably too soon to say anything, so I'm sorry. Just...I'm happy about this, if there's a 'this' to be happy about." He leans in and pecks his mum on the cheek. "Told you the party wouldn't be complete chaos!"

Douglas watches as Arthur hurries away. He turns back to Martin and Carolyn. "Where's my drink, then?"

Martin hands Douglas his eggnog. 

"I never expected this," Douglas says thoughtfully between sips. He gazes at the two of them. "But, it kind of works." 

Carolyn and Martin look to each other and make the same noncommittal noise. Then they look at Douglas and smile, just a bit.

Douglas toasts them with the last bit of his eggnog.


End file.
